


The Man in the Box

by pyrosgf



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drugs, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrosgf/pseuds/pyrosgf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I'm pmsing… and feeling all angsty.  The sex pollen fic I started isn't going anywhere so I'm taking liberties to drabble while trying to motivate myself to write it.  This is also intentionally scattered.  The thought processes of someone grieving, and overall not my best work.  However I think I needed to just get it out. It's the story of Adam losing his lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man in the Box

The box was a pristine black, a void that held the vibrant life that held onto his heart. The man in the box was a brilliant man who held onto life with both hands and somehow Adam got swept up in that tornado. The beautiful private smile that his love held only for him, the strands of blond silk that slid through his fingers, and the pang of regret that filtered through him as that melodic voice whispered in his head words of love. Those words were gone forever, along with the man in the box.

One week ago his heart had shattered, it'd been over five years since the whirlwind blew into his life, and almost as quickly as he entered it Adam had belonged to him. Adam knew it, the band knew it, and they accepted him into the fold, a member of the band family and the keeper of Adam's heart.

The pieces of his heart could pass through the eye of a needle and as it was he felt like they were shards digging into his insides, cutting deep. He knew those cuts would fade to scars in time, but now they were fresh, and his memories overwhelmed him.

Seven days since he'd made love to Tommy, and roughly one hundred and sixty two hours since those rich brown eyes had twinkled as he'd grabbed the keys and headed to the door. Adam had never dreamed it would be the last time he saw Tommy's face, if he had, he would have memorized it. He would have worshiped every inch of him with a million kisses and twice that with words of love. The rational part of Adam realized that Tommy knew he was loved, but in one week he'd wondered countless times if Tommy knew how much. So many what ifs, and shoulda, woulda, coulda things passed through his mind since he got the call. So many questions he wished he'd asked, so many things he still didn't know.

"Tommy." He breathed, his feet feeling like they were encased in cement blocks. He trudged slowly to peer in, a tiny peek at the man in the box. He couldn't help the quick gasp of air that was released with a tiny sob. The tears finally spilled like a river, leaving tracks of eyeliner in their wake. In all this time he hadn't cried a single tear, but now looking down blearily at Tommy the floodgates opened.

"Why?" His voice cracked with emotions. "How baby? Please, Gods, Tommy how did this happen? We were," he snuffled several moments wiping at his eyes until a gentle hand on his back drew his attention. The funeral director with the kind eyes provided him a box of tissues and silently walked away. He took a tissue and dabbed at his eyes, knowing full and well that his makeup was a lost cause and then remembered. "They said you did this to yourself, but I can't believe it. I've never seen you sad, but… but you're gone… and I'll…" he choked on the words; the lump in his throat too large to swallow.

The man in the box lay silent, and with a shaking hand Adam brushed over his cheek. The funeral home had dressed Tommy in his latest tour outfit and done his makeup, with Tommy's mother's approval. Adam could see mascara thick on his long dark lashes. His body shuddered with another violent sob, the morgue flashing through his mind. Tommy's skin pale, as the morgue attendant rolled out the body with Tommy's mother by his side. Her scream pierced the air as she collapsed into him, and all he felt was numb. He only wished the numb had lasted.

The pain was piercing, the ringing in his ears that of the telephone. He was teleported through time, standing in their living room when he got the call. The caller id identified it as Tommy's mother, but that was not the voice that trailed through the line. He could hear Ms. Ratliff in the background wailing. It was Tommy's older sister and as she began to speak the sounds in the background became distant. The words were there, but suddenly as if they weren't in English. Nothing she said made sense. _Tommy was found, unconscious at a bar. Cops said the bartender watched Tommy consume a handful of pills, and a few minutes later he was convulsing. They said the poor man just presumed it was a prescription, but I think they're lying._ Disjointedly he felt the phone slide from between his fingers.

When the voices in his head drifted away he blinked, his eyes focusing on the man in the box. He cupped Tommy's cheek when what he really wanted was to grip his lapels and shake him, beg him for answers. The toxicology report had said there was cocaine in Tommy's system, along with a cocktail of pain medication. Adam couldn't believe he'd missed these things and he believed it was a setup, but he couldn't prove it. "Please, Gods, if any of you are listening, give him back or give me a sign you bastards. Faith, everyone says you should have faith and I've had my own form of it my whole life, but you can't take him away from me like this. I need to know." He pleaded to deaf ears.

Some minutes and hours bled away as he was lead from the coffin. When his muddled mind finally took stock of his body he was lying in bed. The heaviness of sleep tried to swallow him, but he was restless. His eyes were shut, but he felt the bed sink. It was a familiar comforting weight and phantom arms enveloped him. He breathed in the scent of Tommy's cologne not daring to open his eyes as the presence lulled him.

"Adam…" The voice held a lilt of sadness, "open your eyes."

He obeyed the command and was surprised to see Tommy's face, almost as if it had all been a bad dream, but he saw the man in the box. In his gut he knew this was impossible, just a figment of his overworked mind.

"No baby, I'm here. I'm sorry, but they let me come to tell you the truth. They said I owed you that much."

Adam felt the frown tugging at his lips, his body shook with tension, every muscle in his body bracing for what he was sure he didn't really want to hear. Tommy's hand brushed his cheek in much the same manner he'd done several hours prior to the man in the box. There was solid pressure, but the hand held no warmth.

"Let me go, there was no wrong. I've been sick, God I've been so sick for so long. I didn't want you to see me slip away and become a frail existence of my former self and that's what was going to happen. I couldn't take the idea of being a burden and I wanted you to remember me this way."

Tommy's words were painful, but he found solace in the fact that it wasn't because he was unhappy. "I love you, and I'm sorry I didn't see what you were going through."

"I didn't let you, now sleep my love." Tommy sighed a pressed a gentle kiss against Adam lips just as his body slipped away.

Alone again Adam pressed his face into his pillow. _I'll never forget._

_ I know you can't stay  
A part of you will never ever go away  
Your heart will stay_

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.


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